


Suspension Bridge

by miserygrave



Series: Suspension Bridge Effect [1]
Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation, Rough Oral Sex, probably a poor understanding of psychological effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserygrave/pseuds/miserygrave
Summary: His brain was so fucking screwed up. He was so screwed. God, he needs to go home and get away from this stupid fucking Winnebago where it was all hot and cramped and humid, from stupid fucking Mr. White who was suddenly making him question everything about himself without even really doing anything, and from the stupid fucking images in his head that keep twisting him up in ways he cannot deal with.





	Suspension Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Really wanted to write smut, and so I did! Enjoy.

Jesse idly sucks a thumb into his mouth as he watches Mr. White stalk away from the RV, yanking his protective hazmat suit down to his waist, talking to his wife on the phone and making a dozen flimsy excuses all in one breath. Sometimes Jesse feels a little bad for the guy, but whatever. It was his choice to start cooking meth, after all, and his choice to start lying to his wife. Not his problem.

Still. The part that _is_ his problem is the fact that he's been stuck in this stupid RV for hours on end every few days since this partnership started and he's starting to lose his mind. Ever since Emilio and Krazy-8 had died, Jesse hasn't quite managed to snuff out this solid, unshakeable, powerful _feeling_ for Mr. White that’s started growing up his spine and tangling in his guts.

He curls his tongue around his thumb. The dude had straight up stone cold murdered two gangbangers and then they'd mopped up gore together. It's hard not to feel like he kinda owes Mr. White his life because he realizes they probably would've come for his ass sooner or later, and now that the deed is done he can't help feel like they've got this special connection now somehow.

He pops his thumb out of his mouth the instant Mr. White makes the motion as if he's about to hang up and turn back to the RV, but he doesn't and instead starts making motions in the air. He’s arguing with his wife about God knows what.

For a moment, he considers sucking his thumb back in, but it was a close call, so Jesse pulls out a cigarette and sucks on that instead.

Something is fucked in his head and he doesn't know how to fix it. He thinks about how fucking scared he was when Krazy-8 had dragged him out to the desert, and how Mr. White made it go away, even if it took some arguing and some mistakes. How he'd gone back home to find it spotless and the danger in his basement perfectly taken care of.

He thinks about how Tuco had fucked him up so badly he'd ended up in the hospital and Mr. White had gone there, threatened him, and _gotten away with it_. Mr. White had paid him back every cent and more for that hospital bill. Jesse honestly wasn't prepared for how batshit insane and kinda fucking badass his old chemistry teacher would end up being. Sometimes it still kinda catches him off guard when he thinks about the shit he’s done.

And he thinks about how Tuco killed that guy right then and there in front of them in the scrapyard because he'd beat the guy so bad, how Mr. White had been right there next to him, just as scared. Somehow, though, Jesse knew deep down that Mr. White would deal with it if it came down to them or Tuco. He always had a plan. Jesse could trust that, no matter what.

When Tuco got out of hand, he came up with a plan after all, just as he'd known he would - ricin. He doesn’t even know how the shit worked, but he believes Mr. White when he says that it would’ve fucked Tuco’s day up if they’d managed to get him to take it.

The prickle of heat from the sun makes him remember how cramped and dark the trunk of his car was, pressed against Mr. White and fully believing that he was going to be the last friendly face he ever saw. It irreversibly changed something in him, pushed him even further and further into this weird bond they'd tied around themselves.

And now Tuco’s dead. And they’re free to do whatever the fuck they want - take over right where he left off. Just him and Mr. White, jumping right off the fucking edge of sanity and into some bizarre, upside-down world where there’s nothing but drugs, money, and blood.

The cigarette burns down the the butt. He snuffs it out carefully in the dirt and bites at his nails, trying to keep himself from chasing those memories around in circles.

Shit. He really wants to go home so he can drop by the Crystal Palace and hook up with someone. The twist of heat is building in his stomach again and if he doesn't get off soon he's probably going to end up popping a boner in the RV and that's gonna suck ass because it's real small and tight in there and the absolute last thing he needs is Mr. White figuring out he's getting hot over thinking about fucked up shit like nearly dying next to Mr. White so many times.

He hesitates for a second before he sticks his thumb in his mouth again, looking to ease the itch just the tiniest bit.

He'd looked up some shit on Google trying to figure out what he was feeling and found the “suspension bridge effect”. Basically, from what he understands, people get horny when they're scared sometimes, and they attach those feelings onto the person they're with. Jesse really hopes that the sudden, intense fascination he's feeling isn't him being horny for the old, bald bastard that kept dragging him into shitty situations, but he can't exactly find it in himself to walk fully away from the idea either.

Mr. White turns around before Jesse can rip his hand away from his mouth and the guy blinks for a second as if he didn't properly register what it was he saw. That suits Jesse just fine and he goes back into the RV before he can say anything.

When the door clatters open, Jesse tenses himself for a potentially awkward conversation - _“I knew you acted like a baby, Jesse, but isn’t that a bit much?”_ \- but Mr. White thankfully just zips his hazmat suit back up and gets back to work with barely a nod in his direction.

It's only a matter of a half hour later when Jesse feels the heat climbing down the inside of his chest, settling in his gut and yeah. This is happening. Mr. White presses behind him, pushing him against the counter and he needs out of here right now so he can go jerk off.

“I - shit, Mr. White,” Jesse excuses himself, trying not to sound too breathless, “I gotta go, like… Take a piss.” And before Mr. White can say anything vicious to him about skimping out on the work, Jesse rips open the door and runs out.

It's so fucking hot out. He stumbles away to an area somewhat covered by the tall rock, just enough so Mr. White can’t look out and see him. Jesse feels himself sweating all over, sun beating down mercilessly on his neck, feeling like an actual, physical weight as he hurriedly pulls his dick out and starts tugging.

His eyes drift shut and he pictures himself in the Crystal Palace, some faceless hot chick on top of him and heavy breasts swinging down above him as he fucks her. _Fuck_ , he needs to suck on something so bad right now. He sticks his fingers in his mouth and pictures himself sucking on her tits. His mouth goes dry as he licks the salt off his fingers.

Without warning, the mental image shivers and twists into someone forcing him to his knees and shoving their dick in his mouth. He pushes his fingers into his mouth far enough that he gags wetly over them and his stomach tightens as he comes over his hand.

“Oh, _shit_. Shit, shit, shit.”

His brain was so fucking screwed up. He was so _screwed_. God, he needs to go home and get away from this stupid fucking Winnebago where it was all hot and cramped and humid, from stupid fucking Mr. White who was suddenly making him question everything about himself without even really doing anything, and from the stupid fucking images in his head that keep twisting him up in ways he _cannot_ deal with.

He wipes his hand on the rocks and wipes some of the sweat off his face. On shaky legs, he stumbles back to the RV and hopes that the cook will be over soon.

* * *

 

Mr. White must have had an argument with his wife again. He’s acting really mean today, snarling at him when he’s just a second too slow and shoving him around when he wants by. Normally, Jesse would be pissed off at how he’s being treated because fuck him, they’re _equal partners_ , but instead he’s a bit busy contemplating doing something insane.

The last few cooks ended in him either having a raging boner he awkwardly hides on the way home (thank God for baggy clothes), having limped off somewhere to jerk off before he came inside of his hazmat suit just from being in that fucking steam box with Mr. White, or otherwise going home and having a wet dream where he was sucking Mr. White's dick.

After the last time, with his stomach all twisted up with this _feeling_ for Mr. White, he’d even gone back to his new home in Jane’s duplex, curled up onto the mattress still laid out on the ground with his laptop, and clicked his way to a porn site where he’d watched every fucking deepthroating video in existence, masturbating with his headphones jammed into his ears, listening to the wet sounds and moans, coming over and over until his balls ached and his brain felt like it was melting.

He’s spent enough time trying to talk himself out of this bullshit hard-on he has for Mr. White and figures he may as well take the leap. It’s about fucking time to take direct action.

They wrap up the cook, even with Mr. White’s pissy mood, and once they’ve finished cleaning up Jesse strips his hazmat suit off, watching as the other man all but rips his off in his hurry to leave.

“Yo, Mr. White,” Jesse starts, swallowing nervously. His tongue licks the inside of his own mouth, longing to curl around something. Shit, this was maybe a bad idea, but as if his dick has sensed that it’s about to get some satisfaction, it starts hardening in his sweats and the rush of blood down makes it harder to think about _why_ this is a bad idea.

“What?” Mr. White doesn’t even look at him, quickly packing the equipment away.

“Uh, y’know, I was wondering if, uh…” Jesse licks his lips. Wondering what? _I was wondering if I could suck your dick because I can’t stop fucking thinking about it._ “If, uh - if I could…”

Mr. White turns and looks at him with such a cutting look that Jesse’s voice just dies, but his dick is throbbing harder. That superior, haughty look always pissed him off, but maybe it would be kinda hot to have him look down at him like that when he was on his knees.

He can’t take it anymore. The anxious arousal is skittering under his skin, making him feel too hot, too shaky. It’s impossible to stop his hand from rising magnetically to his mouth, sticking his thumb in just to stop the empty feeling for a second.

Mr. White’s face drops into an oddly neutral look when he does. His eyes are trained right onto Jesse’s, looking like he’s poking right into his head, trying to figure him out. He sounds infinitely more patient when he asks, “Yes, Jesse? If you could what?”

In the cramped, humid space, Mr. White looks even bigger than normal when he steps closer, one foot at a time until they’re breathing each other's air. Sweat drips down the back of his neck with anticipation.

“What, Jesse?”

His eyes flicker down to Mr. White’s crotch and back up. Mr. White reaches out, grabs his hand and pulls it out of his mouth. Jesse can’t help the slight whine that comes out of him at that, but he doesn’t take his hand back.

“Use your words.”

Why bother? He’s never been good at talking. Instead he follows his gut that’s screaming at him for some satisfaction and presses his mouth against Mr. White’s, licking the surprised sound right of of the mouth that opens up almost instinctively under his. Warm hands curl around his face and seem to hesitate between pulling him away and holding him closer.

This is his chance. He swirls his tongue in Mr. White’s mouth, coaxing him in. He feels better now that his mouth’s got something to do, but it still feels empty.

Then Mr. White starts kissing back.

He feels like he's in a fucking sauna, melting away into the heat until he can't feel anything but the stick of his clothing on wet skin, the pounding beat of his blood, and Mr. White's tongue shoved halfway down his throat. It feels _really_ good.

He sucks on the tongue in his mouth, pliantly letting the guy do what he wants. As much of an apparently straight-laced guy Mr. White pretends to be, Jesse knows he loves being the one in control, and it seems like that's how it is when it comes to getting intimate too. That’s just fine with him.

Two hands grab his hips with so much force he wonders briefly if he'll bruise, but he just hums into the kiss that breaks only briefly for air and then comes right back together.

Mr. White pulls them until his back is pressed against the counter and Jesse is held tightly in front of him, and then he uses his grip to haul Jesse's crotch against his thigh.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Jesse gasps into the hot air between them, wanting to grind against him so badly but the iron grip not letting him move an inch. “Mr. White, please -”

The guy leans his head in and cuts him off with another demanding kiss, all rough and brutal. If his damn hips aren't bruised by the end of this then his mouth will be, but he can't complain when he gets to have Mr. White's tongue back in his mouth, licking him all over inside. The hands carefully and pointedly pull him against Mr. White's thighs in little jolts, giving him just enough room to wiggle for some extra friction before pulling him away again.

At some point he starts whimpering, feeling the ache in his balls start to build up. He's so fucking close. The miniscule part of his brain that's still actually thinking is freaking out about the fact that he really is about to come in his pants while dry humping his ex-chemistry teacher's leg - but the rest of his mind tells it to shut up because right about now nothing has ever been this hot.

Mr. White's hands relax and stop manipulating him like a doll, but he's still kissing Jesse hard, like he wants to devour him, so Jesse carefully starts humping his thigh, waiting to be reprimanded. The reprimand doesn't come.

God, it's so fucking hot and he's getting light headed from the lack of air. He rubs harder, feels the hot little drips of pre-come start dripping down him, his dick twitching anxiously in his pants.

Mr. White pulls away for a second and Jesse can't stop himself from blabbering. “I'm so close, Mr. White, I'm so fucking close, please, let me - just fucking let me come - I need you, _fuck_ -”

Mr. White just watches him quietly, one hand gently rising up to rest on his cheek. Slowly, as though he's waiting to be bitten, he curls his thumb into Jesse's mouth and that's it. Jesse sucks mindlessly on it, tasting the skin and sweat and salt, jerking his hips forward once more as the sun bursts out from behind his eyes and he comes. Mr. White pulls his thumb away and holds him as he slumps forward, shaking as he tries to stop himself from passing out.

After blinking a few times, light comes back into the world and he realizes he has come staining through the front of his pants, cooling uncomfortably along his dick, and Mr. White is watching him like he's scared Jesse's about to lose it.

“Thanks,” is all he says. His face flushes red and he realizes that he didn't even do what he wanted to do initially, but it turned out to be pretty fucking good anyways so… Curiously, he looks at Mr. White's crotch, and the guy’s kinda hard, but then he gets pushed away before he can start drooling over it and just like that the tension between them is cut and they start getting ready to head home.

“This doesn't need to be anything,” Mr. White says, settling himself down into the passenger seat. “It was just stress release.”

Jesse sits in the front seat, licks his lips and feels how bruised they are, shifts in his seat to feel the sticky mess inside. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead as he asks, “What if I want it to be something?”

There's a long pause at that, so Jesse starts the RV up without looking over.

“I'm married, Jesse,” is the answer he gets after a few minutes of driving.

“So what? You're out here like, killing people, cooking the best meth anyone's ever seen, and you're gonna draw the line at screwing someone 'cause you're married?” This guy's moral code is all out of whack, seriously, because he can't see why one line is being drawn but another isn't.

Mr. White doesn't answer him, and goes home without them ever exchanging another word.

* * *

 

Jesse feels like he should be praised for his determination. It's the next cook, and he's done absolutely everything in his power to seduce Mr. White but nothing's working.

In between the two cooks he'd invited Mr. White over a few times but the guy had made excuses every time, so Jesse knew the only way he was going to get him alone was out in the desert when he _had_ to be there to make their product.

He's taken his shirt off under his hazmat suit, flashing a bit of skin here and there when they took breaks - which sure, the suit is not exactly the sexiest thing to wear but he thinks the effort should count. Although, now that he thinks about it, if Mr. White was such a chemistry nerd maybe he _did_ find it sexy. That was something to be explored another day.

After that didn't produce anything other than a briefly annoyed look, he started putting anything in his mouth that he could get away with. His fingers, their pen, a hard candy he'd grabbed from home just for this occasion. Nothing except Mr. White scolding him for chewing on the pen.

Finally, he resorts to just straight up kissing the guy but gets rebuffed so firmly he kinda wants to go die in a hole from the embarrassment until Mr. White gruffly says, “We'll talk after the cook.”

Like a switch is flipped, Jesse quivers in excitement, almost fucking up the batch here and there but managing to pull it together enough to get through without disaster even though a lot of his brain power is being currently being diverted towards his dick.

When they package it all up and have all the equipment clean, Jesse presses Mr. White eagerly against the counter, mimicking their pose from last time.

“Jesse, wait a minute, will you?”

Jesse waits obediently in spot without pulling away, his dick throbbing against Mr. White's thigh and his mouth desperate to have something in it.

Mr. White leverages him slightly away with firm hands on his chest, his mouth twisting into a frown. “What is this, exactly? What do you think you're doing by being with a man who’s not only married and twice your age, but also a business partner? Believe me when I say mixing romance with business doesn't end well.”

_Romance?_ He hadn't thought much beyond the sex fantasies, but if that's what it takes, he can be romantic. A vision of him taking Mr. White out for dinner at a fancy restaurant crosses his mind and he’s a little surprised when he just feels excited about it rather than turned off.

And to be fair, Jesse _doesn't_ really know what he's doing. He's just following his desires and he's not exactly sure why he has them still, but Google had said it was normal to have strange reactions to stress and almost getting his brains blown out… not that anything the two of them ever did was really normal, so why was Mr. White getting all weird about it anyways?

“What I'm trying to do is have sex with you,” Jesse informs matter-of-factly.

Mr. White scowls at him and then looks down at where Jesse is still pushing his erection against him. “I brushed last time off as an abnormality. You might be wise to do the same.”

“I get off thinking about sucking your cock.” There. He said it. And judging by Mr. White's shocked look, he definitely didn't expect it just as much as Jesse didn't expect it. It just came out, and once it does he can't stop. “It's not just something I can control, okay? Maybe, y'know, it _is_ an ‘abnormality’, or whatever, but it's fucking happening all the time in my brain so I can't just pretend it didn't happen like you can, yo!”

Quickly, Mr. White looks down at his mouth and then back up, but it's enough. Jesse latches onto it like a lifeline. “You want it too, right? Just like, a little bit?” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip slowly and Mr. White's eyes follow it, and then he carefully presses a palm against the older man's slacks, curling his hand around the growing erection inside of them.

This time when he kisses Mr. White he doesn't get pushed away. The hard grip comes back to his hips, and he's crushed against him, body to body, so much heat - they're so fucking _close_ to each other. Through their clothing he can pretend to feel his dick pressing against Mr. White's, and he's drooling so much it's making the kiss so wet and sloppy that it's almost unbearably hot. Fuck, he needs to get on his knees right now otherwise he's gonna come without sucking his cock again and that's _so_ not happening.

It takes a few solid seconds of pushing at Mr. White's chest for him to let go, slowly easing his fingers off of Jesse's hips. The release of pressure stings. They're bruised for sure this time, but that's fine. His dick jumps as he pictures himself going home, pressing on the bruises and jerking himself off while watching some porn, but he refocuses himself on reality.

Mr. White's eyes are dark and they look almost dangerous, like he wants to hurt him. Instead of being scary it’s just sexy. Jesse drops to his knees before the guy can change his mind and kisses over the straining zipper of his slacks.

He hears a belt unclicking, and he just barely moves his head out of the way as Mr. White pulls the zipper down and unbuttons them, shoving them open just barely enough to see the bulge in his briefs. Jesse doesn't even hesitate before he nuzzles his face into the crux of his legs, mouthing over the cotton and sucking around the shape of his dick. It's hot and hard, and the smell of sweat and musk is so strong it makes his head swim.

One of Mr. White's hands pet the top of his head. “Hurry up,” he growls, fingers threading through Jesse's hair.

Jesse laves his tongue a bit more roughly over the wet spot he's made. He's gonna take his sweet time with this, enjoy it, and live out the fucking fantasy that's been playing non-stop in his head for the past few weeks and Mr. White is just going to have to deal with it.

Or so he thinks. After another minute or so, Mr. White runs out of patience. The hand in his hair tightens its grip painfully to the point where he can't stop himself from following its direction, pulling him far enough away for Mr. White to push his briefs down and let his cock jut out.

“Hurry. Up _,_ ” Mr. White says again, hand guiding Jesse back, rubbing Jesse's cheek forwards along his dick until his nose is pressed into the nest of pubic hair.

“ _Holy shit_.” Jesse's brain is definitely short circuiting right now and he's surprised it isn't oozing out of his ears because all higher brain functions have shut down hard and he's going to go crazy if the grip in his hair doesn't ease up and let him -

Mr. White lets go. Jesse latches his mouth around Mr. White's cock and sucks, curling his tongue around the hot, salty tip of it. He hears a low curse above him and Mr. White shifts on his feet, hands hovering near Jesse's head like he wants to pull him down and fuck his mouth. His entire body shivers at that thought and his dick twitches so hard that he's relieved when he doesn't come in his pants right then and there.

When Mr. White doesn't grab him and start using him like a fuck toy, he turns his attention to licking hard at the slit, tasting the pre-come and sweat. When he moves his head back and forth slightly to feel the thickness of it weigh on his tongue, he can't help groaning around it. God, this is so much better than his fingers. Why did he wait so long?

He thinks about all the porn he'd watched and tilts his head, sucking wetly and trying to mimic it. When he pushes forward, hungry for more to fill up his mouth, he goes a bit too far and gags. Spluttering and coughing, he rocks back on his heels.

For a second, he sits there looking at his handiwork, Mr. White's dick looking red and wet, damn near pulsing in the air. Fuck, it looks so good, and his mouth waters more just the sight of it. He looks up and shivers at the expression on the other man's face. It looks so fucking hungry, like he wants to rip Jesse apart and take whatever he likes out of him. The look feels heavy, dripping down his spine and smothering him until he does like he can't get enough air. He needs _more._

He licks his lips again and leans back in, Mr. White's hands returning to their spots hovering near his head. He sucks along the side of it, presses his tongue hard against the underside to feel the pulse of the vein there, licks gently at the tip of it.

“Quit screwing around.” The hands land on his head.

Jesse's stomach feels tight, the tension winding up in anticipation. Just a little more. He suckles at the tip, swallows away the little spurt of pre-come, and when he grazes his teeth ever so lightly against the sensitive, red head, Mr. White grabs his hair again.

“You little shit,” Mr. White snarls and yanks his head down until his throat starts spasming, and then pulls him back just enough so he isn't choking. “You wanted this.” It's phrased as more of a statement than anything, or maybe even an order, but Jesse moans in approval anyways.

And that's the signal “go”. Mr. White starts fucking his face, yanking him in as he thrusts forward and it doesn't take long before Jesse is a crying, snotting, drooling mess, holding on to Mr. White's hips for dear life. His eyes drift shut and he listens to the wet sounds of his gags the sound of Mr. White's dick sliding in and out. It's so fucking hot, Jesse knows he'll be jerking off to this all fucking week.

_God_. His dick hurts, it's so hard. All it would take is just the tiniest bit of friction. He thrusts his hips uselessly into the air, but his pants are so loose there's nothing to rub against. He just needs _something_. Just as one of his hands unlatches from Mr. White's side, he feels a firm pressure against his crotch. He gets pulled off just far enough for him to look down. Mr. White's stepping on him. Before he can compute that, he's crushed forward again, choking around him and the heel over his dick grinds down.

Just like everything else, it's hard and unforgiving and it's almost painful as Jesse comes under it, jerking up into the pressure as his eyes roll back and he goes slack, moaning like a whore as Mr. White's thrusts get shorter and shallower.

He drifts back to himself just enough to hear Mr. White order, “Swallow.”

And then hot, thick ropes of semen start shooting down his throat, filling his mouth as he swallows it. It's bitter and salty, but he obeys anyways and keeps swallowing until it stops, and then he sucks and licks Mr. White's dick clean until he gets pulled away.

For a moment they stay like that, Mr. White's hands still resting in his hair, his dick softening, and Jesse on his knees licking his lips to get all the remaining come off his face. Jesse wipes his face with his sleeve, carefully tucks the man back inside his briefs, does up his pants and belt, and when he tries to stand he's forced back down.

He turns his face up questioningly and sees Mr. White looking at the wet stain on the front of his sweatpants. The guy nods at the stain. “Show me.”

A full bodied shiver runs down him, prickling him with heat all over. He feels almost shy as he shuffles his hips up to pull his pants down and let Mr. White look at the mess sticking along his dick and inside of his boxers, like _this_ is the most clandestine part of him blowing Mr. White in their mobile meth lab.

“That's good, Jesse,” Mr. White approves, smiling down at him. He shivers again, feeling heat build up in his cheeks.

Jesse stands up after that and stretches out the slight ache in his legs from kneeling down, and they quietly drive back to town. When they finally get to the scrapyard to park the RV and head towards their respective vehicles, he picks at his nails and works up the courage to ask, “See you?”

Mr. White looks over his shoulder. He tosses his keys in the air and catches them while eyeing Jesse with a pensive look. “If you want.”

The relief is overwhelming. “ _Yeah_ , yo, I want. I'll like, text you.”

Mr. White's mouth quirks up into a smile and he nods, and they go their separate ways.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got some more places I wanna explore with this concept, so I might make this into a sorta series? Please comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed :3


End file.
